Mother Dearest
by sourcandydaddy
Summary: The greatest love story that tells of a child rescued from tragedy, loved and nurtured by a virtuous witch to bring about a great change upon the world-Mind you not all love is romantic. OOC!Parent-Child![Glynda/Jaune] - anthology format
1. Mother Dearest

_Might be OOC, not sure. Haven't read anything Glynda-centric that wasn't smut to some extend so not sure how well i portrayed her character when she isn't being railed or when she's pitching tents._

* * *

 **Patron**

As far as her eyes could make out, the scenery was a hell-scape of death and destruction garnished by the evaporating remains of Grimm carcasses.

Being one of the oldest settlements this side of Vale, Patron had an outdated distress beacon and due to the obsolete technology, the huntsman party arrived almost half a day after the bandit raid and mere hours after the Grimm finished of the settlers.

There was, at this point, no purpose to their presence in the settlement as the Grimm were thorough in their follow up. The only thing they could do was clear away the Grimm and look for survivors, if there were any.

House after house, it was the same haunting scene. Blood and gore decorated the walls where once a bandit raided a poor settler's home followed by the gutted farmer lying on the roadside eviscerated who'd fallen prey to a stray Beowulf.

"Glynda…come in - _over_ ," the radio called, followed by screeching static.

"Glynda reporting in, how goes the west quadrant - _over_ ," she inquired.

"No survivors thus far. Your side? – _over_ ," the other huntsmen had finished scouring their side just as she was finishing up her side it seems.

"It's the same as every side, we got here too late – _over_ ," she replied.

"Alright," the man sighed in resignation, "I'm calling off the search party. Return to the Bullhead in thirty when you finish your sweep – _over_."

"Will do, sir. – _over_."

She'd finished a sweep of the upper-tier of the settlement (residential area) and would have, under any other circumstance, stopped to admire the beautiful architecture had it still been standing and not peppered with the dried husks of the settlers.

The only area they'd left unchecked were the slums in the lower tiers of the settlement, the rest of the party had ensured her to not bother with the area, since it was ground zero of the Grimm infestation. The chances of finding survivors in the lower sectors were slim but, no stone left unturned she assured herself.

Summoning purple artifacts of light, she upturned pillars of collapsed buildings, one after another searching for even a single soul that had somehow endured. She refused to go back home empty-handed and as such she'd gone past the set time to sortie back to the bullhead, opting to leave only if she collapsed of exhaustion.

All hope seemed lost when she'd reached the outermost edge of the settlement, she'd turned pillar after pillar from whatever residence that seemed salvageable and found nothing but more bodies.

She looked to-and-fro and saw nothing but forest and Grimm infested lands beyond the border thus cementing the fate of Patron.

~Waaaah~

She had all but given up her search and ready to go back home when she heard the most haunting cry of a child, days old judging from pitch. Despite the exhaustion she took off in a sprint towards the source, each step a full wide stride ignoring the pencil skirt which constricted movement.

The wail had originated from the inside of a run-down tavern which had collapsed on one side and missing a significant portion of the roof, a Goliath attack judging from the damage and indentation of the metal supports which indicated something heavy being pushed into it.

The front entrance was inconveniently blocked from the inside but a fallen support beam which was too heavy to lift with her semblance since close to half of the fallen structure rested atop the steel girder making the run-down shack a death-trap for the survivor inside.

Instead of attempting to lift the metal support she opted to enter via the missing roof using wooden-planks suspended mid-air as walking platforms. With the amount of aura she had left, the feat was simple but nonetheless still exhausting.

"~shush now Jaune, the Grimm will hear us…Don't worry love, help is on the way…just be brave till then little man," a motherly voice cooed to hush the child, audibly strained in pitch indicating extensive injuries of some sort but Glynda was glad to have found survivors, regardless of condition.

She followed the voice to the center of the tavern where she found a woman awkwardly rested against whatever remained of the wall and dead bandits sprawled across the tavern floor. The woman looked no older than herself and she held a small child in hand, bundled in a thickly layered blanket of starry patterns.

Glynda moved closer to assist the woman but stopped mid-way when she noticed the woman's condition.

The woman was hurt badly.

Multiple stab wounds and lacerations all over, each and every one fatal. The blood had by now dried and the resulting creasing on her clothing indicated that hours had passed since they were afflicted.

The bandits were known to attack with disregard of civilian casualty thus to protect her child the woman had no choice but to endure the brunt of the bandits' assault in place of the little one.

It was only by the miracle of aura and will to protect her child that she was even still conscious.

The child remained within her arms, blissfully unaware of his brush with fate as he cooed to the woman incoherently in baby-speak somehow while attempting to fit his entire hand inside his tiny mouth.

"That's no way for a gentleman to act now," the woman softly spoke to the child her voice fading as she removed his hand from his mouth.

Glynda moved in closer and pat the woman on her shoulder.

Having lost too much blood to be startled at the possibility of a Grimm attack, the woman simply held the child closer to her bosom as whatever dregs of aura she had left congregated around the child's body in attempt to shield him from what she must have assumed was an attack.

"It's ok ma'am, I'm here to help you and your child to safety," Glynda said to the woman in the most reassuring voice she could muster.

The woman stared at Glynda, fatigue settling in now as her eyes slowly lost colour and life, before she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"You hear that Jaune, this nice lady's going to take you away to a nice place," ignoring Glynda, the woman spoke to the child softly, tears wetting the blanket wrapping as she resigned herself to her fate.

"Mommy can't come with you…," her breath hitched as she started to cry, "but…I'm going to a place where I'll watch over you…so we'll never be apart," she said as she took the child's tiny hand in her much larger ones and pinched his tiny pinky in-between her thumb and small finger.

"That I promise you on our family name," she handed the child to Glynda.

"You're going to grow up…and you're going to shine… my littler star Jaune."

"Save your breath ma'am, I'm calling for help," Glynda tried to reassure the woman who simply continued to ignore her.

"I can see it now…my son the footballer, a master-chef maybe, or a dancer like your Aunt…you can even be the World's strongest Huntsman like your mom if you want…," with her last few breathes she envisioned what the future held for the child she'd never know.

"Whatever you do Jaune…just know…that I love you." She'd lost vision now it would seem, she fumbled her hands around in attempt to hold her child one last time, but instead pat Glynda's shoulder instead.

The woman, a nameless hero in Glynda's eyes, passed away content with a smile gracing her features.

"I'll…do what I can for…Jaune," taking the woman's now lifeless hand off her shoulder, she lay the woman to rest as she called in extraction for the child and hopefully transport the woman's body for proper burial.

She had minutes before the rest of her team arrived so she allowed for a moment of weakness to pass.

On behalf of the child she now held in her arms, too young and too innocent to understand his loss, she mourned the passing of his mother.

On her behalf and of others who had taken up arms in the rescue effort, she mourned the lives of those they'd failed to save.

The child poked his head out the blanket revealing a mop of blonde hair and the most striking pair of blue eyes. Jaune grabbed a handful of her flowing locks and proceeded to put them in his mouth. For but a moment, there was peace upon the world when she looked at his blissful expression.

"That's no way for a gentleman to act now," she said as pulled the lock of hair from his mouth. It was futile to reprimand him for his actions, being far too young to understand speech and all, but it was all she could do to calm herself.

 **Vale Airspace:** _en-route to Beacon via detour_

Within a bullhead freight, a sortie of hunters had taken to gathering around the witch and the child she held in her arms.

"He seems to like you Goodwitch…must be a blonde thing," the burly elderly gentleman, Brutus, said to lighten the heavy atmosphere that always lingered about whenever they weren't fast enough or strong enough to protect.

"Kid cries every time any one of us holds him…must think you're his mom," Glynda flinched at the mention of the child's mother but she held an uncharacteristic smile as she rocked him in her arms.

"He's so adorable, like Yang," the only other female in the group scooted closer to poke the child's cheeks, "What's his name?"

"Give the kid some space Summer," the sleazy looking drunkard of the bunch, Qrow, pitched in after noticing the child's discomfort at the poking. "We can worry about his name and age after we decide what to do with him."

"The 'responsible' thing to do would be to hand him to the Foster-Care system," he slurred bitterly.

"Must be dreaming…Qrow speaking of responsibility…gotta be a catch to it," Brutus quipped at the drunkard who smirked instead of taking offense.

"Me and Rave have some 'personal' experience with the system…the constant moving-around ain't exactly the healthiest thing for a child, especially one his age," he said, putting emphasis on the personal bit, to which the rest murmured to each other but soon defaulted to exchanging awkward wary glances back and forth, just waiting for someone to speak up.

"First we get him to a hospital then see what to do from there." The voice of reason spoke in form of Glynda who gently rocked the child rested in her arms.

"Putting him up for Adoption could be the best thing we can do for him or worst…depends who picks him up."

"He seems to like you already, you can be family to the kid if you want," the elderly man said to the blonde as she continued to rock the child.

It was a passing statement, meant to be taken to heart but to be brushed of as a jest. She wanted to refute but the prospect of motherhood brought a rare smile to her features as she held him closer and imagined him as her own.

"That's a great idea. You're both blonde and have mean looks anyway so you can pass of as family easily," Summer said excitedly bouncing in her spot as she waved to the baby who had twisted his face in discomfort at something.

"You…really think I could," as uncertain as she was, it was something she took to consideration. The huntress life wasn't turning out the way she'd imagined (rather romanticized)it would and as of recently she had found an out, in form of a teaching position at the prestigious Beacon. Raising and nurturing the child would bring about a new purpose to being, one that she welcomed.

"Glynda Goodwitch and children…that'd be the day," rudely interrupting the good witch's reverie was the ever sensible Qrow.

"Qrow," Summer snarled at him as he slinked away in his corner muttering an apology.

"Don't listen to that moron Glynda, you'll make a great mother. You don't have to take my words to heart but think on it," placing a hand on her shoulder Brutus reassured her.

She recalled the moment she shared with the child's mother, when she promised to do what she can for him, and the more she thought back to it the more she considered the gentleman's words.

Instead of raking her brain with the unpleasantries of the settlement's demise, she turned her gaze to Jaune in her arms who seemed to take discomfort at the freight's altitude. His little-face scrunched and he soon dispelled whatever he'd drank earlier, the little glob of milk and spittle spoiling the inner blanket's corner without touching the rest of the layers.

While swapping his blanket-wrapping for fresher ones she found herself humming a fair ditty and thanked every god under the sun the others weren't present to hear. The sound seemed to quell Jaune's squirming and brought a smile to his chubby face so she picked up tempo and added some hushed vocals while she carefully rolled him out of his silky cocoon.

 **Vale Hospital**

A restless hour later she found herself in the most obnoxiously colorful section of the public hospital, standing in front of an equally colorful door, the Familial and Juvenile-care specialist's office the sign read.

Jaune had been compliant thus far whenever she held him(sole reason she'd been tasked with taking him to hospital for the check-up) and as such the check-up had gone swimmingly well without him breaking out crying or squirming uncomfortably, The results of which had come up with soiled nappies at worst and warranted a bottle of some powdered elixir.

"Come in," the specialist summoned her. Behind the baby-blue colored door was the man who would ultimately decide whether he would live a good life fill of familial love or be stuck in the vicious cycle that was the foster-care system as per Qrow's warning.

"Take a seat ma'am," he instructed of her to which she complied, no longer did she have the weight in her arms that she'd grown fond of all too fast.

"I understand you asked for me and had some questions concerning … Jaune was it," he said as he pulled up a dossier on his table-top display.

"What's going to happen to him," she asked of the man who in turn typed something furious on the touch-screen peripheral installed into his work desk to which a bunch of digital documents and forms popped up, each one a different color with different text pertaining to whatever right and local legislation they were under.

"Either one of many things could happen but best case scenario..." he pulled up the first two documents with an awkward wave at the holographic display.

"With your permission, as his Guardian on paper," she'd signed the check-up forms in a rush and didn't bother to read the fine print, "we could put him up for adoption. At his age the process should only take about...a month for him to be taken," he said as he flipped through the pages explaining the intricacies of the process.

"...How… would one go about with getting those forms," she said hesitantly pointing to the screen display.

Fondly the doctor took note of how her expression had completely flipped from stone-faced stern one minute and the next flustered.

"Motherhood is an experience unlike any other," he said as he ducked low under his desk as he skimmed through a file cabinet to pull out a khaki folder.

"The gift that keeps on giving, my wife always says even after seven girls," he smiled fondly as he slipped the folder Glynda's way.

"It is challenging at times but there's nothing more rewarding than watching the little ones grow, I assure you."

"If you're interested then read through that then come back here… I'll walk you through the process myself if and when you decide."

A simple nod and polite dismissal later she found herself outside the office but still in the same colorful section of the hospital sitting on an office chair by the ward-concierge as she read through the forms detailing the process. With each word she read the prospect of care-taking became a more welcome thought. By the time she'd read halfway through the booklet her mind was already set thus she skipped to the end where she found a pinkish form with empty boxes.

Placing the paper flat on the concierge desk she fished out a pen nearby and took a heavy breath. One drop of ink on the paper was all it would take to forever change her life and that of another soul, for better or worse.

She walked through the blue door once again and was graced by the surprised look of the specialist who had expected her to take a little longer than the thirty minutes she had.

As she slid the folder back to the specialist, "I made a promise to do what i can, I intend to see this through," she said.

"Spoken like an Arc," taking pride in her resolve the man bellowed as he hefted a mountain of paper onto the desk.

"Let's get you started shall we."

* * *

 **Words: 2991**

A/N: I was inspired by Clean Bandit's son Rockabye to write this, which inspired me to draw the cover art. Spent countless hours going through nude models just to find the right pose, not that I'm complaining.

Feedback is much appreciated but do go easy on me.


	2. Welcome Home

_The joy of mother-hood comes in moments. There will be hard and frustrating times, but amidst the challenges there will be shining moments of joy and satisfaction._

Elder M. Russell Ballard

* * *

Having been conceived of a home-birth, Jaune was required to stay in the hospital for at least a fortnight under more sterile conditions per the Doctor's insistence, conveniently it had taken the duration of his stay to finish drafting the necessary paper-work that would bind them for life.

A fortnight had passed and she'd spent the most of it either visiting the bundle of joy _(never able to hold him for sanitary reasons but at least allowed to see him through a glass cage)_ or on scroll calls, mostly to Beacon's administration and a couple last minute calls to a real estate agent for a short notice permanent-lodging _(a mandatory requirement)_.

Despite the copious paperwork and consul appointments, never once did she think twice on her decision thus a fortnight's worth of headaches and screening interviews passed and now, she held in her own two hands the results of her plight.

An off-white piece of parchment paper outlined with cherubic illustrations along its borders with the text, Birth Certificate, in the header section. Printed in bold letters smack-dab in the center of the paper was the child's name and the last name of the parent's choice…

"Jaune Goodwitch," in a hushed tone, she chanted to herself as she eyed the document.

She was sure that whatever his true last-name was, it would have fit his first one proper but figured Jaune Goodwitch wasn't too bad either. It wasn't short per se but it wasn't too long either that it was a tongue twister. Admittedly it rolled of the tongue quite snuggly such that she found herself repeating it in whispers.

She let flow tears of joy as she held the form, now wet along its edges with the offending liquid spoiling the corners, turning the off-white into a grey-bleed. Wiping her wet cheeks dry, she made her way to the hospital check-out to collect her now 'son' and bring him home…their home.

 _~~~Home~~~_

The abode was a spacious, single story, two-bedroom house located in the quieter section of the Vale Metropolitan area with a view of the Emerald tower ( _light-house on Beacon grounds re-purposed to serve as the Head's office_ ), almost within school borders what with Beacon itself being a ten-minute walk away.

Due to its proximity to a huntsman institute and a completely reasonable civilian fear of living next to a Boarding-School of super-powered children, the purchase had been a clearance sale. The realtors had practically lowered the price to half the original cost as soon as she expressed interest in the property.

Patiently, she waited for the movers to unpack the twenty-some boxes containing what little she had, assisting whenever necessary but mostly giving direction. The essentials had been the first ones to be set up such as the expensive-looking cashmere couch _(a gift from family-friends)_ and the dining area ensemble followed by the installation of a cot, one that had been her own when she was Jaune's age.

When all the boxes and household stuffs had been moved inside, she excused the hard-working gentlemen and retreated to the veranda with her child in tow, leaving the unkempt mess in the living-room aside for later.

She wanted to spend this first hour in their new home together.

She sat herself in a metallic patio chair, across from a plastic rocking chair/carriage with Jaune in full view. As she basked in the life-giving warmth of the sun she glanced Jaune's way and found stirring uncomfortably, flailing his little arms in attempt to cover his eyes from the sun it would seem. She pulled the sun cover of the carriage and watched him shift to a comfortable slumber while she rocked the carriage back-and-forth.

"I know it's not much," she whispered to him, referring to their humble abode, "but it's home enough for just two," her voice lulling him into an even deeper sleep as he soon stopped stirring.

It truly wasn't much.

The property had a spacious backyard with enough square-blocks of lands to install a play area for when he starts learning to walk _(or a spar arena should he pursue the life of a huntsman)_ and the inside had a spare few rooms aside from the essential that she could re-purpose to an in-house office or play-room when the time comes.

In someone corner of the backyard, the cicadas sang the anthem of the upcoming summer season, hiding underneath the unkempt tall grass.

She looked unto the blissfully sleeping Jaune by her side and back to the untrimmed lawn, "When you grow … you're going to have your work cut out for you, young man." Already planning chores, she had taken to the role of motherhood quite well.

She took him as her own not of guilt for not being able to save his mother, nor of pity for his monumental loss but of her own willingness, of desire to nurture and out of love. This life wasn't the one she envisioned when she chose to follow the path of a Huntress, but to save and nurture one soul, she put it all aside and took to the sacred duty of motherhood.

Just the thought of watching him grow brought a smile to her smile and watching stir in his sleep was like salve to the soul. The years that will follow won't be easy, life usually isn't she assured herself and resolved to brave the coming storm, through all its ups and downs.

* * *

 **Words: 906**

Anthology: formulaic collection of **_short_ ** stories

A/N:I don't really have an update schedule in mind so expect updates to be irregular. I'm trying to go for College Fool's short-story formula, used in the **'...or something'** collection.

I haven't been able to update my main story not because im in a rut but because i got so many ideas swimming in this brain cage of mine that I just have to get out. that and i may have been playing Mass Effect Disappointment and NieR (best game ever btw, too bad there's no boar-drifting anymore)


	3. Conversations at Dawn

**Conversations at Dawn**

* * *

 **4 months+**

~Ping~

At the jingle of the monitor, she let forth a deep tired sigh as she pushed her bedding aside and woke up for the fourth time that night. Each time it rang, she'd had half the mind to crush the blasted thing to smithereens but advised against it, how else would she know when to check up on Jaune.

Bag-eyed and with slouched gait she dragged herself to Jaune's room, once again, to lull him back to sleep. She didn't bother to adjust the purple night-gown she wore as she let it slip off her shoulder without a care, letting its length drape to the floor collecting dust in her wake.

No longer the quiet babe he was found when she took him in, he was now four months old, that age at which children seemed to wake up in the dead of night and cry for no good reason. Three times already he'd broken in a wail, and each time it had taken her a good thirty-minutes plus to put him back to sleep.

The first time had been for a nappy change, a much-needed nappy change, and all was well and good when she cleaned him up. He went straight to sleep soon after.

The second time was… she had no clue why he woke then but he went to sleep soon after she sang him a lullaby.

The third time he woke up crying she figured he might have been hungry but seeing as he refused the milk, he may as well have woken up crying for the hell of waking up crying. Following that pattern, she concluded that he was hungry this time.

She had work the next morning, her first week as an Assistant Professor and she tried her best to be punctual. But… after losing almost two hours of sleep now, she figured she might have to call in sick at dawn, in her current state she may as well have been a zombie and was in no condition to even walk properly much less teach.

"Whoever said raising children was easy must have had a full-time nanny," she said, yawning in-between as she made her way to the kitchen with Jaune in hand to concoct some formula.

Thinking back to her sleepless rambling, the idea of getting a nanny had crossed her mind many a time, but she had deemed the idea to be unhealthy for a child's development. It was by her own misconceptions of motherhood that she dismissed the thought of someone else raising her child; that and a general distrust of people.

Turning the dim lights on, she made her way to the Kitchen where she placed Jaune in his basket-carrier that she'd left in the dining area the night before.

The kitchen itself was a mess, the sink was filled with uncleaned plates from two dinners and three lunchtimes ago, with just about every glass she had littering the counter-top.

"Guess I know what I'm doing on my day-off," she said as she rummaged through the upper cupboard where she kept all Jaune's foodstuff; Fishing out a tin of powdered milk while offhandedly levitating a Pumpkin Pete sippy-cup from the cupboard below onto a clean, free space on the counter.

"Four teaspoons' worth of powder to a cup's worth of water, shake vigorously and warm to a lukewarm temperate," she recited the instructions as she followed them step by step.

In his own little spot in the living room, Jaune who lay awake in his basket, patiently awaited his feed whilst he babbled to himself something fierce. Letting out a chorus of almost word-like sounds, predominantly consisting of vowels and consonants here and there.

Fishing him out of his carriage, she laid on the couch in a rest position and let the little-one rest in her lap as he suckled viciously on the pacifier-tip bottle for the nectar within. After finishing the contents, he resigned himself to staying where he was, crying whenever she tried to move him elsewhere thus grounding Glynda on the couch for the remainder of the night.

Fortunately, the couch was comfortable enough that she felt no need to put him back into his carriage.

Having slept a collective total of sixteen full hours _(through a series of very short naps)_ , Jaune didn't seem like he was going to sleep anytime soon, instead he sat in her lap suckling on the now empty bottle while making silly incoherent noises attempting speech.

"a-ga," he babbled to her with what equated to a good half of his entire 'vocabulary' at this stage.

For the next few minutes, Glynda simply rested on her side repeating the silly noises he made back at him, to which he responded with more of his own. Consequently, the minutes ticked away to an hour as mother and son engaged in 'conversation'.

It wasn't the sleeping-rest she desperately needed but the time she spent bonding with her son was relaxing in its own way. And despite it being well into the morning she'd stayed up the whole time, talking and laughing along with Jaune till he eventually fell truly-asleep with almost his entire hand in his mouth.

She eventually put him back in his basket to sleep beside her in peace, after prying his tiny hand from his toothless maw. He'd worked up all his energy laughing and 'talking' so the chances of another waking episode were slim. With some peace of mind, she too dozed off, still within the living room just as the hour was striking morn.

Side by side, they slumbered and dreamt.

She dreamt of better and hopefully quieter days to come and he dreamt of… whatever babies dreamt.

* * *

 **Words: 987**


	4. Baby Steps

_**The man who moves mountains begins by carrying away the pebbles.**_

 _ **Confucius**_

* * *

 **Baby Steps**

The mid-day beams shone down upon his sleeping form, disturbing him from a very peaceful slumber. Farther to his side laid his mother, undisturbed by the star and still deep in her sleep.

As he laid flat on his back, his blue gems darted to-and-fro, curiously observing the white-scape of the ceiling, the plastic bars of his gilded cage and the myriad of blinking lights rotating in a hypnotic dance.

He knitted his fingers together, thumb to pinky followed by thumb to index and so forth, in no particular-order to interesting result. In the midst of moving his finger, he'd somehow clutched the white cloth he laid upon by its edge in a 'grip', the foreign action somehow greatly amusing him to which he let out a high-pitched cooing laugh in celebration and attempted to do the same with the other hand.

His musculature, atrophied from absolute non-use failed him when he tried to turn himself over to face his other appendage, his neck alone being insufficient to complete the arduous task. Despite the setback, he tried to will himself to turn over with great effort but found that he simply couldn't turn himself over no matter what.

Instead…he found his little legs flailing in aimless struggle whenever he stirred. At that moment, he completely forgot his previous task and devoted his attention to the strange appendages he just then became more aware of than ever.

Just like he did with his fingers, he tried to knit the toes together but found them unmoving, what with the limbs being different and the action in-translatable. The second attempt went differently, instead of knitting his toes together he found it more comfortable to push against the surface by the soles.

His chubby legs pushed against the material, creasing it and almost tipping him to his side, but his legs always gave out before he could. He repeated the action again and again with the exact same outcome each time, resulting in him eventually discovering the art of kicking.

Glynda having been woken by the strained noises of the bassinet shaking, slowly made her way to the cot only to find Jaune kicking his tiny legs in the air in a violent aimless fit while giggling to himself like a man who just struck gold.

She laid a thick layer of blanket on the floor and fished Jaune out of his cot and laid him down atop the white cloth so to give him more space to do...whatever he was doing. Unperturbed by lack of sleep, she prepared for him his sippy cup and contented herself to simply watching him playfully flailing his chubby legs in the air from a small distance away with a book in hand.

Now out of the confines of his plastic cage, his flailing became more erratic as he swayed with each kick.

With each motion, he threw his weight left and right by the hip until eventually he found himself in a curious position, belly-flat against the cloth with his hands outwards in a crawl. As he put one hand over the other he dragged himself frontwards, and with repetition he soon found himself in a state of locomotion and as if by instinct, his mother's position was the end-goal.

Glynda, having previously contended herself to spectating Jaune's curious behaviour, now sat at attention, all focus on Jaune as he attempted to waddle his way towards her.

"Oh my God, you're crawling," she squealed in delight as she perked herself upright, her arms held outwards awaiting him in embrace.

"Come to mommy," she encouraged him.

He put his left hand over the right, with a heave and an awkward twist he inched ever forward and shifted his position by barely an inch before toppling himself over to lay flat on his back against the surface. Expertly, he twisted and flipped himself over, back onto his belly and proceeded to attempt the feat again.

"That's it Jaune, you're getting closer," in truth he hadn't made any lee-way what-so-ever but it appeared so, thanks in large to Glynda who had instead shimmied herself a good few meters to lessen the distance as she cooed to him words of encouragement.

With a kick of his pudgy leg he propelled himself further forward but like before, he found himself on his back yet again.

Even closer to him now, Glynda looked unto his form as he struggled to tip himself over lay on his belly.

"You're almost there Jaune. Come to mommy," she pat her thigh to regain his attention when he almost turned around.

Now with an understanding of his limbs, however limited it was, he waddled a few steps closer and settled for an awkward dive into his mother's loving embrace upon reaching her. Tired and tuckered out of most of his energy, he settled into a tranquil rest in his mother's arms after having traversed a collective total distance of barely a meter, not quite asleep but eyes shut as he reached out to Glynda's locks with his tiny grubby fingers.

She hugged his tiny form and when her emerald gems met his ocean blues, they glistened with pride at him for having accomplished this monumental milestone in life.

"You did a great job Jaune. Soon you'll be bouncing off the walls I've heard," she said to him with a smile gracing her fair features, her voice eliciting a delighted squealing laugh from him.

"That won't be for a while thank goodness."

"For now though…you'll have to settle for baby steps."

* * *

 **Words: 900  
**

Before one learns to walk, one must learn to crawl


End file.
